by Ben Hale
“Why do you attack it?’ Elenyr countered.
“Because it’s mine,” Wylyn said, sweeping her hands outward. “The land, the water, the air . . . the people. All of it is mine.”
“You call them yours?” Elenyr asked, her voice gaining an edge. “You may own worlds, but you understand nothing. Freedoms can be taken, but free will must be yielded.”
“There is truth to your words,” she said. “But all men ultimately yield to the Empire. Is that not true, Lira?”
Lira bristled and took a step forward. Draeken stepped to her side and caught her arm, holding her in check. Wylyn smirked at her response and gestured to Elenyr, her voice turning amused.
“I have learned a great deal about you since my arrival,” Wylyn said. “An oracle turned Hauntress, a warrior without peer, and one capable of passing through the very stone. You are an impressive adversary.”
“You are not the only one that has learned,” Elenyr said. “You are the head of the ninth most powerful house in the Empire, a member of the second tier, a royal, and a woman that commands an army so vast that we are just a handful of rodents to you.”
Wylyn inclined her head in agreement, and then looked to Draeken. “Your companions are equally as impressive, especially Draeken, a victim of the guardian charm, now fragmented into five separate beings. All unique. All powerful.”
Draeken scowled at the tone of greed that seeped into the woman’s voice, like he was a commodity to be owned. Wylyn didn’t flinch as fires curled up Draeken’s arms, and merely looked on in interest. In the background, Tardoq struck his hammer on the floor, powering the weapon.
“After all the millennia that you have lived, did you ever wonder what your death would look like?” Draeken shaped the flames into a blinding sword and pointed it at her. “I wager you never thought it would come at the hands of a human.”
“No,” she said. “I did not.” But her amusement remained as she turned to Lira. “The reckless Eternal. I admit I know less about you, but only because Serak’s knowledge does not extend to the Eternals.”
“At least one secret remains private.”
“I applaud the Eternals for what they have done,” Wylyn said. “You have kept Lumineia hidden from the Empire far longer than any rebellion before you. But that time is at an end. Will you fight the battle that cannot be won? Or fight the battle that you have a chance of winning?”
“Every battle can be won,” Lira spat.
The king of dragons released a snort, smoke billowing up from his nostrils, his voice piercing Draeken’s thoughts. I told you they would not listen.
“I am not your enemy, Hauntress,” Wylyn said, her features darkening. “And it would be wise to hear my offer.”
“Then speak,” Elenyr said.
Draeken turned to her in shock, but Elenyr did not take her eyes off the woman. Lira appeared equally surprised, but Draeken had never seen Elenyr agree to listen to a foe, least of all one with such power. Then Elenyr opened her thoughts to him, and he sensed her words like a whisper in the corner of his mind.
Know your enemy, she said.
He realized her intent and recognized the wisdom behind it. They had spent months tracking Wylyn, and they had found her in a room with three mighty dragons. All their foes were gathered into a single room. Whatever was said could prove useful.
“Lumineia is fallen,” Wylyn said. “It’s only a matter of time until we build the Gate and the people are taken.”
“As slaves,” Lira snapped.
“Yes,” Wylyn said. “But not all slaves are equal, and the people of Lumineia possess incredible abilities—abilities that make them valuable.”
“There’s no way the Empire would let them live,” Lira scoffed. “They would fear magic spreading to the other slaves.”
“True,” Wylyn said, “and they could be slaughtered—unless I speak to the Empress on your behalf. If I do, the Empire can preserve your races that they may be owned by the royal houses. They will live a life of luxury, while we study what brought about the change in their bodies.”
“You want to experiment on us?” Draeken asked.
Wylyn scowled at the disdain in his voice. “It is a better offer than you will get at the hands of the Empire.”
Lira trembled with rage. “How dare you speak such things as if they are good for these people.”
“You are all slaves,” Wylyn said. She was obviously trying to restrain her anger, but a tinge of red ignited in her eyes. “Your only choice is how you will live the remainder of your lives.”
Elenyr raised a hand to stop Lira from surging across the gap. The dragons had sensed the rising tension and begun to pace, Thistikor sitting on his haunches, smoke rising from his open jaws, his multifaceted eyes spinning with excitement.
“And what do you and your son get out of this arrangement?” Elenyr asked.
“We reap the benefits, of course,” Wylyn said, her voice still carrying an edge. “My house would be responsible for you not breeding with the others, and that will require significant cost.” She smiled. “We can’t have more magic spreading.”
“I’ll rip your throat out,” Lira snapped.
“And Serak?” Elenyr asked, ignoring Lira and glancing to the guardian in the door behind her. “What of him?”
“I have already promised him a place at my side,” Wylyn said, glancing to the father of guardians.
“I supposed the dragons received a similar deal.”
We get to keep the world when you are gone, Thistikor said, his mental voice low and dangerous. Along with a number of slaves as new stock for ourselves . . .
Draeken’s anger mounted, and he gauged the distance to the nearest red dragon, his blood seeming to boil with magic. But Elenyr’s laughter brought his anger to a halt. Low and mocking, Elenyr’s amusement caused Wylyn to flush.
“My apologies,” Elenyr said. “I should not find amusement in your ignorance.”
“I’ve lived for eons,” Wylyn said stiffly. “My knowledge far exceeds your own.”
“Without question,” Elenyr said. “And so you see my dilemma at discovering a subject of which you are so oblivious, that you do not even know you are ignorant.”
“And what is that?” Wylyn asked acidly.
“You truly believe that you’ve chained the race of man,” Elenyr said. “And believe them incapable of defeating the Empire.”
Wylyn sneered. “They lack the courage to—”
“Indeed, you have come to believe,” Elenyr continued as if Wylyn had not spoken, “that they are lesser beings. And yet this race will be the undoing of your Empire, the end of your rule, your very lives. To bring us into the Empire will not be the end of our race . . . it will spell the end of yours.”
Elenyr’s voice had gained an almost prophetic timbre, and Draeken found himself in awe. Facing a trio of mighty dragons and the head of a powerful krey house, she was the one commanding attention.
“You would rather die?” Wylyn challenged.
“If the choice is to live as slaves or die free, we refuse both,” Elenyr said. “No tyrant, king, or even Empress will ever strip us of our willpower. You want the people of Lumineia? I dare you to try and take them. You will die at their feet.”
Elenyr’s challenge faded into a ringing silence, and Wylyn stared at Elenyr in shock. Draeken got the impression the woman had never been spoken to in such a manner, and that it was the first time in Wylyn’s life that she met someone—especially one she viewed as a slave—speak with such authority.
The dragons had begun to fidget again, and Draeken spotted a few wings flitting past the opening, as if other dragons had been summoned by the king. Elenyr had gotten Wylyn to admit several truths, but she’d refused her offer with such force that there would not be another, and Draeken sensed the impending battle.
“You are a fool,” Wylyn spat. “When the tower rises and my world Gate is opened, I will enjoy killing you with my own hands.”
“I wel
come you to try,” Elenyr said, drawing her blade.
Wylyn regarded her with contempt. “I had hoped you would see reason, that you would convince the remaining kings to accept my rule. It would have spared many lives. Now, their blood will be on your hands.”
“Their blood will be on the hands of their killer,” Elenyr retorted. “And that certainly won’t be me.”
Wylyn eyes were a deep red now, the black swirling with burgundy and blood. She swept her hands to the waiting dragons and they rose to their feet, their wings unfurling. She smiled, the expression dark and forbidding.
“Just remember, Hauntress,” she said. “I did give you an offer.”
Elenyr raised her sword to Wylyn. “The day will come when you stand on the precipice of victory, and see the slaves you so disdain destroy every shred of your hope. On that day you will die with a heart filled with disbelief.”
Wylyn shook her head and muttered a curse in a foreign language. “Unfortunately, you will not live to see any future, because I cannot let you live. My dakorians were sorely disappointed they did not get to claim your lives, but the dragons are indeed eager.”
We are not your dogs, Thistikor said. But on this we can agree. I am eager to kill this one.
“Goodbye, Hauntress,” Wylyn said. “I hope your ending is one of fire and pain.”
“You first,” Elenyr said.
Elenyr burst into motion, sprinting across the floor toward Wylyn. The krey woman stood firm, her expression one of disdain as Elenyr closed the gap. But the king was also in motion, and it reared his head, air rushing into its maw. The great golden dragon dropped its head to the floor and opened its jaws, forcing Elenyr to turn and face the king. Draeken and Lira dived away but Elenyr wasn’t fast enough, and the mountain of flames poured from the jaws of the huge dragon, engulfing the Hauntress in a searing blast of dragon fire.
Chapter 41: Draeken’s Power
The torrent of flames was thirty feet high, and poured into the tunnel where they had entered, filling the breadth of the opening and splattering to the sides, spilling across the floor. Draeken sprinted out of reach, and caught a glimpse of Wylyn disappearing into a tunnel on the opposite side. There was a flash of silver light as a Gate opened, and the woman disappeared. Relgor and Serak followed, and Tardoq sneered before he too departed. Then one of the red dragons darted into Draeken’s path and its jaws opened.
Draeken skidded to a halt and summoned his own fire, a wall of solid flame that hardened just as the dragon unleashed its power. The blast of dragon fire was not as large as Thistikor’s, but it was twice Draeken’s height. It struck the wall and exploded outward, cascading to either side.
Draeken gritted his teeth as he held the shield and looked to where Elenyr had stood. The king cut off its fire and reared back, releasing a thunderous roar of triumph. The wind from the dragon entrances gradually cleared the smoke, revealing scattered fires.
And Elenyr.
Unharmed in the midst of the fire, she stood with a look a fury on her face. She held her blade low and ready, while the fires burned through her ethereal form. The King’s roar ended abruptly when he spotted his adversary unharmed.
What magic is this?
Elenyr advanced through the flames, green smoke billowing out from her form and shaping into the cloak and cowl of the Hauntress. Then she stepped free and flicked her sword, her words an ominous snarl.
“Your father was smarter.”
She charged, and the dragon reached down with its jaws, snapping shut on her body. But she’d phased to ethereal and passed through the huge teeth. Then she leapt and sliced across the dragon’s foreleg.
Dragon scales were renowned for their rigidity, but with the blade turning solid when it was already inside the flesh, it cut deep, spilling dragon blood onto the floor of the cavern. The king roared its pain, drawing the surprised attention of the two reds.
Draeken smirked as he watched the king fight the Hauntress, his giant form whirling and snapping, attempting to catch her while she was in solid form. It was a deadly game, for if he did, Elenyr would be killed in an instant.
Dragons dived toward the entrance, but Lira cast a trio of cyclones, the tornados whipping the interior air into a frenzy as they churned for the openings, the shrieking wind preventing the dragons from receiving reinforcements. It left Draeken facing two red dragons. By himself.
The dragon had ended its assault on Draeken and turned its head toward Thistikor, obviously uncertain if he should assist. Draeken made the decision for him, and changed his wall of fire into a ballistae, the fire reshaping at his will. Drawing heat from the pools of dragon fire, he augmented the bolt until it changed from yellow to orange, the heat sparking across its length.
The dragon swiveled back to Draeken, its multi-faceted eyes whirling in surprise at the giant weapon at his feet. It took one step forward and Draeken fired, the bolt piercing the dragon’s body just above a foreleg.
The dragon issued a horrendous bellow. It stumbled back and collided with the wall next to the south opening, blood spilling from the wound. It clawed at the bolt with its other foreleg, and ripped it free of its body.
A great thundering of feet signaled the approach of the second red, and Draeken spun, gathering the flames on all sides, shaping them into a large torso, legs, and head. The dragon snarled as Draeken shaped his body into a giant soldier.
The dragon’s claws dug into the ground and the dragon released a blast of fire, intent on burning Draeken to ash. But Draeken opened the golem’s mouth and swallowed the fire, using it to expand his body, filling his body and adding an armor of white flames.
Now standing as tall as the red dragon, Draeken swept his hand out and cast a ten foot sword. Facing a soldier as large as it was, the dragon actually retreated a step, partially unfurling its wings and snarling a warning. Within the midst of the flames, Draeken raised his sword and charged.
They collided in a blast of sparks, the dragon snapping at Draeken’s throat, but Draeken raised his arm and caught the jaws on his forearm, using his sword to slash across the dragon’s body. Scales clattered to the floor as the sword cut into the dragon’s torso. Snapping at Draeken’s mangled arm like a ravenous wolf, it sought to break through his guard.
“You may be a dragon,” Draeken snarled, “but you are just a beast.”
He plunged the flaming sword into the dragon’s body. The beast opened its jaws to howl, and Draeken leveled a crushing blow with his fist, striking the dragon in the face. Teeth broke loose and clattered to the floor, and then Draeken struck again, and again, pummeling the dragon with punishing blows. Then he reached for the blade and yanked it free.
The dragon recoiled and swung around, smashing its tail into Draeken’s legs, knocking him to his back. He lost his grip on the sword and it skittered away, the flames dissipating into smoke and cinders. The dragon’s muscles clenched as it caught Draeken’s arm and forced it away, and the beast sought to drive its jaws into Draeken’s body, ripping apart the armor around his tiny form.
Draeken roared and used a fiery fist to strike the dragon in the skull. Its head snapped to the side and Draeken struck again. Blood dripped from its eye, and then Draeken caught the beast’s horn and yanked, tossing the roaring dragon aside.
Draeken rose to his feet, his body spitting fire and sparks, half his armor torn to shreds—and the second red struck his flank, knocking him into the wall. Its jaws clamped on the head of Draeken’s golem and snapped back and forth.
“You want a bite?” Draeken growled, and released his hold on the golem’s head. “You’re not going to like the flavor.”
Unprepared for the sudden release, the dragon tumbled backward—just as the head detonated, knocking the dragon into a wall, where it crashed through the stonework into a reservoir of water beyond. Obviously intended to provide water to the outpost, the water was tainted green and reeked of mold.
The dragon rolled free and spotted Lira, just a few paces away. It lowered its
jaws, and a surge of fear filled Draeken’s chest. He reached for the liquid in the reservoir. The wave flowed up and crashed on the dragon, wrapping the water around the dragon’s jaws. Legs appeared in the water reached out. Other legs solidified as the water morphed into a clamping spider that struck the dragon repeatedly. More arachnids appeared and swarmed the wounded dragon, latching onto its legs, wings, and tail.
It rolled and clawed, its roars muffled through the bindings on its jaws. Draeken caught a glimpse of Elenyr still battling the King, its great body bleeding from dozens of tiny wounds, darkening its bright scales. Beyond them, Lira nodded her gratitude as she struggled to keep the cyclones in place, the tornados barricading the dragons that sought entry. One swooped for a gap, but the wind gusted, knocking the great beast into the wall, where it tumbled from sight. But Draeken saw the toll the magic was taking, and Lira’s features were strained, her face lathered in sweat.
A burst of movement caused Draeken to spin. He caught a glimpse of a dragon’s maw and just managed to catch the jaws of the second dragon, the fireflesh of his large fingers spitting sparks as the dragon chewed. The beast snapped and snarled as it sought for Draeken’s chest.
The dragon’s charge drove Draeken back, toward the edge of an opening, where a tornado churned just feet from him, the wind tearing at Draeken’s fireflesh. Draeken braced his feet, his golem slowing as they approached the drop, and with all his might and magic he brought the dragon to a halt.
Real and enchanted muscles strained to keep the dragon at bay, and the beast lunged and snapped, bringing all its legendary strength to bear on the headless golem. Inside the golem, Draeken glanced back and saw the endless drop below, the sight eliciting a spark of fear that nearly extinguished his golem. Then he sneered and cast a spike from the water beneath the enraged dragon.
Nearly invisible beneath the dragon’s bulk, the shard of dark green liquid grew, its point sharpening as it extended to the belly of the beast, gaining an angle that aimed for its heart, the idea drawn from Water’s encounter with Serak.